Chapter Text
Shen Yuan had overslept.
Just a tiny, little bit.
He woke to his phone ringing insistently—the backup alarm he’d set hours before just in case had saved his ass, considering it was already nearly lunchtime. Good thing his scenes were in the afternoon again, at least with that kind of schedule he could still grab something decent to eat.
Shen Yuan sat up and stretched, groaning as his spine cracked pleasantly.
He did not miss his old body in moments like this. And probably would not miss it anytime soon. At least not until he got closer to thirty again, when the eternal question of was that the fridge door creaking or my knees? would inevitably return.
Dragging a hand through his hair, he moved the few lone strands stuck to his face, valiantly ignoring the faint traces of drool on his pillow.
Shameful.
But just a normal, human experience.
He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining a few more minutes of sleep.
Maybe in total darkness. Maybe with rain tapping softly against the windows while a heavy blanket pinned him comfortably in place.
A truly beautiful fantasy.
Shen Yuan knew better than allowing himself that indulgence. Without another alarm, a few minutes would definitely morph into hours.
It doesn’t mean though that actually getting out of warm covers suddenly became any easier QwQ
His stomach made the decision for him, rumbling loudly in protest.
“Okay, okay, I’m up. Be quiet,” he muttered, dragging himself out of bed and shuffling toward the bathroom.
He showered half-asleep, eyes barely open enough to recognise which bottle was the shampoo one, only fully blinking awake once he reached the sink. Steam still clung to the mirror when he wiped a clear streak through it with his palm—
“Fuck—”
He nearly gave himself a heart attack.
Ok, ok, it's not too bad, it could be worse.
No eye bags yet, thankfully. But his face was puffy, like he’d eaten spicy noodles the night before—which he sooo hadn’t, even if his stomach would weep with happiness had it devoured some—and faint shadows lingered under his eyes.
Makeup-jiejie will kill me for this.
Hoping to salvage the situation, he dug out the emergency supplies Xiang Fei had packed and did his best to conceal the evidence of a poorly slept night.
A few minutes later, he leaned back to inspect his work.
Not professional-level, but at this rate he’d soon qualify for a minor in concealer magic. Nodding to himself in approval, he went through the routine of choosing clothes based on the fabric feel, comfort levels, and the hopefully nonexistent need of ironing.
In the middle of pulling on his shirt, he checked his phone. Several messages from his dear manager stared back at him, each progressively more urgent than the last.
From: Xiang Fei
⤿ Remember to update your Weibo sometime soon.
From: Xiang Fei
⤿ Unless you want me to do it?
Then, timestamped at eleven am:
From: Xiang Fei
⤿ Are you still sleeping?
From: Xiang Fei
⤿ Xiao Yuan, for the sake of your clean and youthful face, I hope you spent the night sleeping and nothing else.
Shen Yuan sweat-dropped.
He truly hadn’t meant to fall asleep to Shen Jiu’s voice, but after rewatching the movie and then somehow spiraling into other videos, he had to admit the man could probably start an ASMR channel if he wanted to.
Never mind, never mind, better not to think of it.
Nobody had to know about it, right?
To: Xiang Fei
⤾ I'm up, I'm up
⤾ I’ll handle it. Anything specific you want me to post?
From: Xiang Fei
⤿ It’s already lunchtime…
⤿ Just post a photo of yourself. Mention the set or filming or something. Say a few nice things to your little fans too.
⤿ Don’t overthink it.
To: Xiang Fei
⤾ ദ്ദി ദ്ദി
After making himself look at least vaguely human-adjacent and giving the room one final glance, Shen Yuan headed out in search of sustenance.
I should probably figure out how laundry works in this place too.
He added it to the ever-growing mental list of Things People Were Somehow Expected To Know.
The walk to the cafeteria wasn’t long, but he still found himself unconsciously speeding up at the increasingly offended noises coming from his stomach.
The place was already half full when he arrived.
Soon he was surrounded by the familiar buzz of conversation, trays clattering somewhere in the distance, all of it mixed with the smell of hot food and soup broth.
Shen Yuan grabbed lunch and settled at an empty table near the corner.
Sitting alone felt a little strange now that he’d somehow gotten used to Gongyi Xiao’s constant presence. Still, maybe it was better this way? No familiar faces watching him awkwardly attempt to take a nice photo. At the same time, taking pictures of food was something he was quite used to. Maybe he shouldn’t overthink it, and just take one with the food, then?
He switched to his official Weibo account.
That profile picture…
It was undeniably him. The same face, the same nose, identical eye colour, hair, upper lip slightly thinner than the lower.
Had he not known he transmigrated and it wasn’t his world and body, he would have thought he had amnesia as he couldn’t not recall this picture ever being taken.
Also…
Even though the Original Goods looked nearly identical, there was something different about him. Maybe it was because Shen Yuan was used to seeing himself in the mirror every single day? The person in the picture looked a bit meeker, softer. Brighter. There was a kind of open youthful clarity there that Shen Yuan himself definitely did not possess—not with his permanent resting bitch face and years of internet-poisoned cynicism.
He fought hard not to make a weird expression.
It felt eerie, staring at someone he should recognize but didn’t.
An uncanny valley version of himself. Like one of those horror stories where the reflection smiled half a second too late.
He fought down a shiver, finger hovering over the delete button.
Still, the Shen Yuan of this world seemed to want to succeed as an actor. Wanted to make a name out of himself, took the photo, and posted it for the internet vultures to judge.
Removing it now, when he was looking at a photo of a basically dead person felt…
Disrespectful.
He was not superstitious but… leaving it be for a full forty-nine days since his arrival seemed fitting.
Just in case.
Maybe he should burn paper money too?
His stomach growled again, louder this time, reminding him of urgent, down-to-earth needs. Several nearby people glanced over briefly.
Shen Yuan lowered his head in immediate embarrassment.
Let's just take a photo and get this over with.
He propped his phone against a cup, adjusted the angle twice, then took a candid-looking selca while holding his chopsticks.
@ShenYuanOfficial:
<A photo of a young looking man mid-meal, cheeks slightly pink, probably from the heat of the cafeteria, hair soft, as if freshly washed.>
Lunch break on set today 🍱
Filming is going well~ Everyone, please remember to eat on time too! And take care of your health, good night of sleep is the first step on the road to success ❤️
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then the notifications began trickling in—not too many yet, thankfully. He’d check a few comments before bed maybe? Just enough to look active. If anything genuinely problematic appeared, Xiang Fei and the PR team would definitely handle it before Shen Yuan even saw it.
Probably for the best lest his peerless persona might accidentally escape containment.
Muting didn’t help with mutual follows, though.
When his phone buzzed again, Shen Yuan glanced down automatically.
He did follow people from the main cast, crew, and the official drama page, but not many more than that. For a brief moment he wondered who’s following him back and who could be chronically online and the answer should have been obvious, in hindsight.
-@GongyiXiaoOfficial: Talking about breakfast and sleep, I haven’t seen senior in the morning ૮(◞ ‸ ◟ )ა I hope there's still the good soup left when I get there QwQ
That punk.
The comment appeared less than a minute after he posted.
…Did Gongyi Xiao live on Weibo?
“Shen-qianbei!”
A familiar voice called from nearby.
Shen Yuan slowly lowered his phone onto the table with all the casualness of someone absolutely not embarrassed.
The faster he moved, the more obvious it would look.
"Good morning," he said, trying very hard to sound cool as a cucumber.
Gongyi Xiao sat across from him with his own tray, smiling immediately.
“Good afternoon, senior,” he corrected, laughter already hidden in his voice.
Right.
It was, in fact, afternoon.
Shen Yuan immediately lost several coolness points.
“Ah. Well. Slightly past morning, then.”
Gongyi Xiao’s eyes crinkled.
“Senior talked so much about health and diet but wasn’t there for breakfast. Late night?”
“Haiyaa, youngsters these days. No respect for their elders,” Shen Yuan said, waving a hand dramatically.
The deflection worked surprisingly well.
Sure, it made him look slightly ridiculous, but at least he didn’t have to explain himself.
Because what if Gongyi Xiao discovered he’d spent half the night watching Shen Jiu interviews. behind the scenes, and promotional materials like some sort of undercover fanboy? Which he supposedly was but…
No.
Absolutely not.
Some things could never be admitted publicly.
Especially not after realizing the entire fandom was apparently insane.
The more he watched, the more wronged he felt.
There had been nothing romantic there whatsoever.
Just rotten-minded women projecting yearning and forbidden longing onto perfectly normal male interactions.
And as a man himself, Shen Yuan naturally would have noticed if there had been something there.
Which there wasn’t.
Obviously.
He realized belatedly that he still hadn’t touched his food.
Across from him, Gongyi Xiao watched with visible amusement, one hand resting beneath his chin while the other lazily spun his chopsticks between slender fingers.
Shen Yuan immediately felt suspiciously like he’d been caught doing something shameful.
Yeah, because thinking about Shen Jiu while his number one fanboy sits directly across from you is definitely normal behavior. Get a grip, Shen Yuan.
“It seems that senior is really tired today.”
Shen Yuan felt oddly off-kilter.
For a split second, the cute junior vanished, replaced by someone sharper. Someone with bright, clever eyes; observant enough to feel almost dangerous.
Someone impossible to ignore.
Then the look disappeared so quickly Shen Yuan wondered if he imagined it.
Or maybe he’d simply grown complacent.
“Hm? Ah… well.” Shen Yuan picked up his chopsticks again. “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately.”
Gongyi Xiao smiled immediately, all warmth and easy charm again, like the sweet teen he grew to appreciate.
“As long as senior remembers to take care of himself.” He tilted his head slightly. “Maybe ASMR videos would help with sleeping?”
Shen Yuan nearly choked on air.
Instantly, his mind replayed last night’s interview clips.
Shen Jiu looked completely different outside of his roles.
In the film, those dark eyes had seemed layered with restrained emotion, a colourful myriad of feelings, every pause carefully threaded with meaning.
But during interviews?
Sharp. Controlled. Distant.
He sat perfectly composed in a tailored suit, posture immaculate, expression calm in a way that bordered on cold.
Professional to the point of intimidation.
Shen Yuan had already been lying in bed half-asleep, mind slowly drifting.
Huh, the scummy villain's voice is actually kind of nice~
Then he heard the next question.
“I heard Emperor Jiu isn’t fond of method acting?”
Shen Jiu hadn’t even hesitated.
“Method actors are usually either lazy, unprofessional, or inexperienced.”
Oh, he’s such an asshole.
Lazy? Unprofessional? Fine. I’ll remember that.
And somehow, with those deeply offended thoughts looping through his head, Shen Yuan had drifted into one of the best sleeps he’d had since arriving in this world.
“Shen-qianbei?”
Gongyi Xiao now looked genuinely concerned.
“Ah.” Shen Yuan coughed lightly. “Maybe you’re right. Do you have any recommendations?”
Gongyi Xiao brightened instantly and launched enthusiastically into suggestions while Shen Yuan finally focused on eating his rapidly cooling lunch.
Soon after the meal, they headed together toward the changing rooms.
Unfortunately, the changing room already had unwanted company.
The moment Shen Yuan stepped through the doorway, he spotted Fang Chi leaning against one of the counters, arms crossed and expression smug.
Ah.
That asshole again.
Shen Yuan was honestly too tired to deal with kindergarten-level drama today, but something about Fang Chi irritated him on sight.
Some people just had inherently punchable faces.
Entirely done with the man’s nonsense, Shen Yuan recalled Shen Jiu’s cold lazy, unprofessional comment from the night before and unconsciously channeled some of that same sharpness into his stare.
Fang Chi’s smirk faltered slightly.
Beside him, Gongyi Xiao paused.
His gaze flicked from Fang Chi back to Shen Yuan.
Then he lightly tugged at Shen Yuan’s sleeve.
The movement broke the moment immediately.
“Senior,” Gongyi Xiao said quietly, “it’s not worth it.”
Fang Chi’s eyes dropped briefly to the hand holding Shen Yuan’s sleeve before he scoffed and looked away.
Gongyi Xiao lowered his voice further.
“Some things follow people for years. Even if they aren’t true.”
Shen Yuan looked away first, scratching lightly at the back of his neck. A teenager was somehow acting more mature than him.
The advice itself was obvious.
But the fact Gongyi Xiao felt the need to say it at all…
That lingered.
He might be more aware of his own standing than I thought.
Shen Yuan nodded, partially to himself, in part to his junior’s words.
“I don’t want any trouble, but sometimes you need to at least try to end it if a push comes.”
“Maybe. But it’s better to wait for the right moment. Or use other resources first—your manager, your company… things like that.”
Shen Yuan recalled the contract he read. His company was Huaxing Media, wasn’t it?
“Yes, that’s right. They should have a good PR team.”
Gongyi Xiao looked at him and Shen Yuan realized that even if that was true, it might not necessarily be a resource available to a newbie like him.
“For established actors, maybe.”
As they changed into costume and settled in front of the mirrors, Shen Yuan kept turning the earlier conversation over in his head.
That warning hadn’t sounded theoretical.
Was it something Gongyi Xiao experienced personally?
Or something he’d witnessed happening to another actor?
…Or maybe, as Jade Guardian, something related to Shen Jiu himself?
There were just too many unknown variables to make sense out of it, and the more he thought about it, the closer he could feel an incoming headache.
Shen Yuan decided promptly to shelve the problem for later.
Costume racks shifted noisily nearby while someone argued over missing cufflinks in the background.
“What did you do to your face?” Ying-jie started the second she saw him.
Shen Yuan immediately folded his hands obediently.
“I was wrong, sorry, Ying-jie.”
She clicked her tongue and began attacking his face with ruthless professional efficiency.
By the time she finished, the exhaustion had disappeared completely beneath flawless makeup.
Shen Yuan stared at his reflection in awe.
“You really are magical,” he said sincerely. “That wasn’t even a challenge for Ying-jie.”
“You better not start making it one,” she warned.
Then, after a beat of admiring her work, she nodded approvingly.
“But yes. I did a good job.”
Shen Yuan bowed slightly in thanks.
“You worked hard. Thank you, Ying-jie.” He added in a solemn voice, with a teasing lilt to it.
Time to start earning for those noodles he dreamed about.
Li Industries Main Office Building, A City.
Li Yitian’s private office was illuminated by warm light instead of the harsh, white glare of typical office lamps. His features grew even more pronounced as he stood, leaning back on the side of a couch in a careless ease.
Wu Qian remained standing awkwardly in the middle of the room despite the clear invitation to come closer and rest.
Xiao Zhan had offered tea when she arrived. She declined. Li Yitian hadn’t insisted.
Now the untouched cup sat cooling on the low table nearby.
Li Yitian flipped lazily through the file in his hands.
“Your evaluations are good,” he said. “Supervisor comments too.” A pause. “Reliable. Diligent. Honest.”
Wu Qian didn’t answer.
He glanced up then, smile faint.
“You seem nervous.”
“I wasn’t aware I was being evaluated personally by Branch Manager Li.”
The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.
“You dislike me.”
“I don’t know you well enough for that.”
“Mhm.”
He closed the file softly and rose.
Wu Qian instinctively straightened as he approached, circling her like a researcher examining a particularly stubborn specimen.
It didn’t seem like fear but more of…
Awareness.
Li Yitian noticed that too.
“You know,” he said mildly, stopping in front of her, “most people become very cooperative after understanding a situation clearly.”
Wu Qian’s fingers tightened at her sides.
“And what situation is that?”
“That Li Wang loses interest easily.”
Her expression cooled instantly.
Li Yitian watched it with quiet fascination.
Interesting.
Even now, not frightened. Or betrayed. Just angry, at him, it seemed.
“You misunderstand,” Wu Qian said carefully. “There is nothing between President Li and me.”
“Then this conversation should be simple.”
He stepped closer.
Not enough to touch.
Enough that she had to tilt her chin slightly to maintain eye contact.
The office suddenly felt smaller.
“You’re intelligent,” Li Yitian continued softly. “You understand how companies work. How people protect what matters to them.”
Wu Qian held his gaze for one stubborn second longer before stepping back instinctively—
—and stopping when the edge of the desk pressed against her thighs.
Li Yitian’s hand settled beside her on the wooden surface with a quiet thud.
Trapping nothing.
Leaving nowhere easy to move.
“You think this is appropriate?” she asked tightly.
“I think,” he replied, voice calm, “that if someone refuses kindness repeatedly, others begin searching for less pleasant solutions.”
Her eyes reddened almost immediately—not with fear, but humiliation.
Li Yitian studied her silently.
He opened his mouth to continue—
—then raised voices cut through the tension outside the office.
“President Li, I said—”
The office door opened sharply.
Xiao Zhan stopped short.
Li Wang had already walked past him.
The office atmosphere shifted instantly.
Li Wang’s gaze swept once across the room—
Wu Qian against the desk.
Li Yitian standing too close.
His expression cooled.
“Wu Qian.”
She looked at him almost reflexively.
“Go home.”
Li Yitian clicked his tongue lightly. “We weren’t finished talking.”
Li Wang ignored him completely.
Wu Qian hesitated only a second before slipping past them. Her head remained lowered; her eyes looked suspiciously bright as she passed Xiao Zhan near the door.
The door clicked shut behind Wu Qian.
Silence lasted exactly one breath.
Then Li Wang crossed the room in two sharp steps and slammed Li Yitian back against the wall.
The impact knocked a huffed breath from him.
Xiao Zhan froze.
Li Wang’s arm braced beside Li Yitian’s shoulder, caging him in tightly.
“How does it feel?” he asked coldly. “Is that how you learned to treat women?”
For a brief moment—
Li Yitian laughed.
Soft. Disbelieving.
“She’s a distraction, not some helpless girl you need to rescue.”
Li Wang’s jaw tightened.
“Stay away from her.”
“And if I don’t?”
Li Wang grabbed the front of his shirt and leaned in to his ear.
Li Yitian exhaled sharply through his nose, irritation and surprise finally flickering through the amusement.
“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Yitian-er.”
For one suspended second it looked like neither intended to move first.
Then Li Wang released him abruptly.
“You’re embarrassing yourself. And the family with you.”
He turned and left without another glance.
The door slammed.
Silence flooded back into the office.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
Li Yitian remained against the wall where Li Wang had left him, one hand still loose at his side. The earlier amusement had vanished completely now, stripped away so suddenly it almost felt unfamiliar on his face.
A faint crease remained near his collar where Li Wang’s hand had twisted the fabric.
Near the entrance, Xiao Zhan hesitated.
Then stepped closer.
“Sir—”
Xiao Zhan’s hand lifted almost instinctively toward the wrinkled collar near Li Yitian’s throat, fingers stopping only a breath away before finally brushing the fabric.
Li Yitian caught his wrist immediately.
Not rough.
Almost gentle.
But quick enough that Xiao Zhan’s breath stalled.
The room went very still.
Li Yitian’s fingers remained loosely around Xiao Zhan’s wrist as their eyes met properly for the first time since Li Wang left.
Xiao Zhan’s expression stayed composed out of habit, but concern had already surfaced too clearly to hide now. Not merely for appearances. Not for a superior.
The silence stretched.
Then Li Yitian blinked once, slowly, expression smoothing back into place with practiced ease.
“…I’m fine,” said Li Yitian finally, breaking the moment.
The words came a fraction too late.
As though he had needed the pause to remember which version of himself was supposed to answer.
Li Yitian released his wrist a second later.
Xiao Zhan’s hand lowered immediately, fingers curling subtly against his palm where the warmth lingered.
Li Yitian straightened his cuffs instead, mind already elsewhere.
“That was a good take.”
The director lowered the monitor headset slightly, visibly pleased.
“We can wrap it up for tonight, folks!”
The tension across the set loosened almost instantly.
Staff members began moving equipment aside, assistants hurried over with jackets and water bottles, and the actors exchanged the usual chorus of good work and you’ve worked hard while exhaustion slowly settled into everyone’s bones.
Shen Yuan bowed automatically alongside the others before finally escaping the chaos with Gongyi Xiao and a bottle of water in hand.
“I feel like we’ve made really good progress lately, senior,” Gongyi Xiao said as they walked off set together. “The scenes feel completely different now compared to the first few takes.”
He paused dramatically.
“Or compared to our line practice.”
“Shh.” Shen Yuan immediately lowered his voice in mock seriousness. “We don’t talk about that.”
Gongyi Xiao laughed brightly.
“Even if I offered snacks in exchange for a quick review session?”
“You drive a hard bargain.”
This time they headed toward Gongyi Xiao’s room instead of Shen Yuan’s.
Honestly, Shen Yuan was grateful for that.
His own room was currently in a state best described as barely legally inhabitable.
Gongyi Xiao’s room, meanwhile, looked almost identical in layout but somehow significantly tidier.
Shame on you, Shen Yuan.
While Gongyi Xiao rummaged through his suitcase searching for the promised snacks, Shen Yuan leaned back in his chair and scrolled absentmindedly through the filming schedule on his phone.
“With this pace, it looks like we’re right on schedule.” He blinked at the screen. “If I’m reading this correctly, I’ll finish filming in a few days at most?”
Huh.
It honestly felt like he’d only just joined the production, and suddenly his time here was already nearing its end.
Across from him, Gongyi Xiao finally found the snacks and sat down cross-legged on the bed, eyes practically sparkling as he opened packets of haw flakes and sesame-peanut candy.
“That’s right!” he said eagerly. “I can’t wait until the drama airs.”
He sighed wistfully afterward, sounding genuinely excited.
“So eager to see your own face on the big screen?” Shen Yuan teased.
Gongyi Xiao nearly choked.
“It’s not like that, senior!”
Shen Yuan laughed immediately.
“Of course, of course. My junior is so hardworking, this senior needs to pick up the slack.”
Gongyi Xiao looked both embarrassed and pleased by the praise.
“You’re laughing,” he muttered, “but wouldn’t senior want to see it too?”
“That could be interesting,” Shen Yuan admitted after a moment. “But I’m not sure I could sit through all of it.”
“Why not?”
“Seeing my own face for that long sounds a bit…” He grimaced slightly. “Embarrassing.”
Gongyi Xiao stared at him for a second before shaking his head solemnly.
“Shen-qianbei will have to stop being shy sooner or later.”
“Oh?”
“For promotional activities, the production team always shows clips.” Gongyi Xiao began counting on his fingers. “Trailers, behind-the-scenes footage, gag reels…”
His expression turned increasingly sympathetic.
“Sometimes they even replay emotional scenes while filming everyone’s reactions.”
Shen Yuan’s soul nearly left his body.
“That sounds horrifying.”
Gongyi Xiao huffed a laugh but still nodded in agreement.
“It’s inevitable! Better to prepare yourself now than get ambushed in public later.”
The teasing tone softened the words, but there was still an undercurrent of genuine advice beneath them.
Shen Yuan suddenly felt vaguely attacked by his own junior.
Not very dignified for a senior figure.
Still…
The kid had a point.
“That’s true,” Shen Yuan admitted reluctantly. “And I am kind of curious how they’ll edit everything together.”
“Right?” Gongyi Xiao leaned forward slightly. “From what I heard, they’re planning to air episodes while post-production is still ongoing.”
Shen Yuan stared at him.
“That sounds awful.”
The thought alone made him tired.
“The deadlines must be insane.”
It barely left room for mistakes.
Gongyi Xiao nodded sympathetically.
“The editors probably won’t sleep for weeks.”
“Makes you respect post-production staff a lot more.”
“That’s true.”
For a moment, comfortable silence settled between them. Outside, someone rolled equipment down the hallway with a loud clatter before distant voices faded again.
Then Gongyi Xiao looked up.
“Senior, do you have any plans after filming ends?”
“I’m not too sure…” Shen Yuan leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. “I haven’t heard anything specific yet. Maybe I’ll finally get a short break?”
For one full second, Gongyi Xiao simply stared at him.
Then he snorted, loudly.
“That was a good one!”
Shen Yuan sweat-dropped immediately.
“…Why are you reacting like that?”
“A break for new actors like us could easily turn into disappearing completely,” Gongyi Xiao said, still grinning. “I’m pretty sure Manager Xiang already has your next few months scheduled.”
Like a dragon guarding a treasure hoard, Shen Yuan suddenly felt protective over his nonexistent future free time.
I really hope you’re wrong. T.T
“And you?” he asked instead. “Any plans?”
“More auditions,” Gongyi Xiao said immediately. “And hopefully a role with good exposure.”
There was no hesitation in his voice when talking about work.
The enthusiasm was youthful, but beneath it sat something steadier.
Ambition.
“Maybe we’ll end up on the same set again soon,” he added brightly. “But even if not, we’ll definitely meet again during promotions.”
Something in Shen Yuan softened unexpectedly.
This kid…
He really was good.
Earnest. Hardworking. Cheerful without seeming fake.
In the original novel, Gongyi Xiao’s future had been frustratingly bleak despite all that potential.
Thinking about it now left behind a faint uncomfortable heaviness.
But fate could change.
Wasn’t Shen Yuan himself already trying to prove that?
So why couldn’t Gongyi Xiao have a better future too?
“Well,” Shen Yuan said, voice lighter now, “you’ve got my number, so don’t become a stranger.”
He smiled slightly.
“The set won’t feel the same without you around.”
“Shen-qianbei~”
Gongyi Xiao’s lower lip wobbled dramatically.
Shen Yuan froze.
Oh no.
Were those actual tears in his eyes?
Now he somehow looked even more like an abandoned golden retriever puppy.
Shen Yuan had to physically restrain the urge to pat him on the head.
Mentally, he was absolutely old enough to do it.
Unfortunately, physically they looked roughly the same age, and randomly patting another grown man’s head would probably cross several social boundaries.
…Probably.
Instead, Shen Yuan flicked him lightly on the forehead.
“Enough acting,” he said dryly. “Save it for the cameras.”
“Aww…” Gongyi Xiao rubbed his forehead exaggeratedly. “Senior is so cold-hearted.”
“You say that while stealing snacks from my dressing table every other day.”
“That’s because senior never finishes them! And I’m sharing mine now.”
“That’s not the point.”
Their planned line practice somehow dissolved into casual bickering after that.
Neither of them made much effort to stop it.
And for the first time since transmigrating into this world, Shen Yuan realized that the set had started feeling strangely close to something like home.